Petunias Story
by HofYecats
Summary: What was Petunia thinking the night Harry was dropped on the Dursley doorstep? What convinced her to raise him instead of dumping him in an orphanage? Was it really the "goodness" of her heart? Or was it something else?


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone (anyone?) Harry Potter related. This is merely for fun and I am not profiting off of it. Enjoy!**

Petunias Story

She hated her so much. She really, did. She just didn't actually know why.

If asked, she would probably just say it was because she was a freak. A circus act, a monster, because she had a strange, abnormal power that couldn't be controlled or explained. But the truth was, Petunia couldn't really name a specific reason for hating her sister; she just knew she did.

Perhaps it was because she knew in her heart, and in her parent's eyes, that she was second. Eternally second. Second thought, second loved, second best. First born, and planned, yes. But it was Lily who was "the best accident that had ever happened to them", it was Lily who was the daughter they'd always wanted and it was Lily whom they loved most. Any extra love or affection they had fell on Petunia, which wasn't a lot, since after Lily there wasn't much left.

Or maybe it was because Lily was so damned perfect. With her perfect smile, her perfect hair and her perfect, beautiful green eyes, she not only dulled Petunia in comparison, she made her almost non-existent to everyone who met her before or after meeting Petunia.

But perhaps most likely she hated Lily for making her into what she was now: A jealous, hate-filled, middle aged woman with no accomplishments in life. In other words, she hated Lily because she hated herself so much more.

Whatever the reason was, she was going to get her revenge now… She was going to raise Lily's son.

* * *

Carefully folding up the letter and sliding it back into its envelope, Petunia Dursley gazed down at the sleeping infant in front of her, with a lightning bolt scar. She placed the letter on the coffee table she was sitting on and gently reached forward to touch the small tuft of hair on the boy's head. There wasn't much, but she could tell that when more grew he would look exactly like his father, that Potter hoodlum with the messy hair.

Thinking about that Potter hoodlum…

So he was dead. And so was Lily. Served them both right, really, considering their decision to continue with that lot of "people"_. They should've seen it coming, hanging around with those unstable maniacs _thought Petunia_. _Petunia considered the ability to do magic something to be ashamed of, like a sickness or an embarrassing moment. The fact that there were people who were actually proud of being "witches" and "wizards" as they called themselves, people who lived in a community with others just like them, people who were accepted for what they did, what they _were_, was just…

The word "unfair" almost popped into Petunia's head, but she quickly replaced it with something else. After all, they were just a bunch of freaks. The idea that she might be lusting after the same kind of acceptance and community they felt, was just, ridiculous. Although had Petunia let herself continue down that trail of thought, she would've realized that this was just another reason she was jealous of Lily. Despite her being a freak, despite her "ability", she still had even more people who loved and accepted her. Petunia had no one. But of course she didn't let herself go there, since that would make her sad about her life, instead of angry about Lily's.

Coming back to reality, her eyes settled on the boy in front of her. By now he had turned over in his sleep and was facing away from Petunia. She could hear him snoring, although the sound was muffled, with his face now pressed against the cushions on her couch.

What on earth was she going to do with him? They didn't need him. The nerve they had, really. Asking her-no, basically _telling_ her to raise the boy after all this time, after so many years of disassociation, after so many years of blatantly ignoring each other, really the nerve of them. Ever since she'd left home she hadn't even spoken to her. She hadn't even related herself with her; she'd tried to get herself as far away from Lily's name as possible, yet here was this boy, who all of a sudden was left in her care. What was she going to do with him?

Petunia leaned back on the coffee table, moving her hands to support her weight. Letting out a sigh, she considered her options.

Option number one, was simple enough: Orphanage. Let social services take care of him.

Vernon seemed to like this idea; he was the one who'd suggested it before charging out into the night after the "bloody bastards" who'd abandoned Harry on their doorstep. Petunia agreed with him. They could claim they didn't know the boy, that he was just dumped on their doorstep in the middle of the night. They could burn the letter, which was the only evidence of any relation between themselves and the boy. It would be so easy.

Petunia nodded at this idea. It seemed to be the best choice, both for her and little Harry. After all, she and Vernon didn't really have the time or energy to raise him properly; they needed to focus their attention on their actual son, Dudley. Yet there was still option number two…

Option number two was easier said than done: raise Harry themselves.

For obvious reasons, Petunia shook her head. "No", she thought, "orphanage. That's what we'll do"

She really could not stand the thought of raising Lily's son. It was just too much. After years of playing second fiddle, of never being good enough, having to raise her rival's son would be like becoming Lily's slave, doing her bidding, and Petunia could really not stand the thought of it. It was just too much to ask of her. Having Harry in her home would be a permanent reminder of her childhood and of what she was next to Lily. She just couldn't do it.

Lifting Harry in her arms and cradling him to her chest, Petunia carried the poor child up the stairs and down the hall to Dudley's room where there was an extra crib set up for Harry. Setting him down again, and arranging the blankets around him, Petunia kissed him lightly on his nose and tucked him in. "I'm sorry Harry", she whispered, laying a hand on his forehead, "I can't do it. You're a sweet boy, but I can't do it. Living with another family, one that can care for you properly, will be so much better than living with us. You'll be happier". And with that said, she tiptoed out of the room as quietly as possible, softly shutting the door behind her.

**A/N: Okay, well hope you enjoyed that. There _will _be a second chapter as soon as I can get it typed up, but getting more than 1 review in the next two days might help the process. Peace out, Bye! **


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